


Fate Falls Hard

by WoodlandGoddess1



Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Frostbite, Huddling For Warmth, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mentions of Grooming, Pining, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:47:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24791836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WoodlandGoddess1/pseuds/WoodlandGoddess1
Summary: After escaping an exploding Star Destroyer, Zeb and Kallus are adrift in a busted escape pod.Now, all they can do is wait.
Relationships: Alexsandr Kallus/Garazeb "Zeb" Orrelios
Comments: 18
Kudos: 201





	Fate Falls Hard

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: No real science went into the making of this fic. I just wanted the angst.
> 
> Also, this is the first Star Wars fic I've ever written. Please be kind!

The sudden series of violent explosions wasn't unexpected. Zeb knew what Sabine Wren was capable of and knew the plan like the length of his own claws. But the jolts still robbed him of balance as he and Kallus sprinted for the nearest escape pod on their level. He stumbled to the side and almost slammed his head into the bulkhead. His instincts alone kept him from cracking his face open.

Kallus wasn't so lucky; he tripped over his own feet and hit the deck hard. The pained grunt that escaped Kallus as he reached for his bad leg was deep and familiar, almost sending Zeb back to the moment he'd broken it the last time the pair of them dived into an escape pod together.

Zeb shook the memories away, knowing he couldn't afford to be distracted. Not when the explosions would reach them before long. He darted forward and grabbed the back of Kallus' fitted shirt. He hauled him up from the deck even as he kept running, ignoring the indignant snarl that escaped the man he'd once loathed with his entire being. Zeb slammed his fist against the nearest control panel and was rewarded with the familiar hiss of an escape pod opening its hatch.

Kallus released a strangled squawk as Zeb threw him inside without warning, and without mercy, heedless of the limited space available within.

Zeb almost laughed.

Almost.

Zeb followed him inside an instant later, forcing the other rebel to scramble to make room for his larger presence. Normally, an escape pod could hold several men. But Zeb wasn't an average man. His bulk claimed the space of at least two. Zeb grunted in slight discomfort as he slammed the hatch shut and sealed them both inside. He wasn't surprised when Kallus initiated the jettison sequence immediately, thrusting their escape pod out into the vacuum of space as the explosions raced towards their position.

And towards the reactor core.

Zeb reached around Kallus and slammed the throttle forward, hoping to put as much distance between them and certain death as possible.

Their part of the mission was vital.

The data core Kallus had clipped to his belt had to survive the blast. It had to reach the High Command. Zeb had to make sure it did. That was his job. Hera had chosen him personally, knowing he'd drag Kallus back to base one parsec at a time or die to ensure Kallus escaped the Star Destroyer with his life.

Hera knew what few others did -- that Kallus was his mate. 

Not even Kallus knew.

Zeb wasn't sure Kallus would even understand.

It wasn't something Zeb spoke about. It wasn't something most Lasats spoke of around outsiders. A mate was such a rare and sacred thing, revered in his culture as a gift from the Ashla. In the beginning, knowing Kallus was his mate had soured his stomach and turned his blood into a froth of churning anguish.

He'd thought the Ashla was punishing him for the fall of Lasan.

Until Bahryn.

That night in the cave seemed like a lifetime ago now. It was the most surreal experience he'd ever had and so much had changed since then. Kallus had changed since then. He'd grown so reluctantly, and so slowly, clawing a jagged path out of mindless devotion to the Empire with his bare hands and morphing into someone that Zeb could almost call his friend.

And Zeb wanted to keep it that way; he couldn't afford to let the whisper of possibilities interfere with his position in the rebel alliance. He couldn't let it distract him. Nothing was more important than the rebellion. 

Not even a chance to be with his mate.

But the data core mattered and Kallus carried it.

And Zeb would protect them both with his life. 

Zeb threw a sharp glance over his shoulder and stared out through the small transparisteel window in the hatch. His stomach dropped through the hull. Not fast enough. The explosions were bearing down on the reactor core and the escape pod wasn't fast enough. Zeb acted instinctively, throwing himself at Kallus without warning and knocking him out of the pilot’s chair, sending them both crashing down against the deck. 

Kallus shouted in surprise and anger even as the core exploded viciously, sending a powerful shockwave outwards. 

Zeb covered Kallus with his body, shielding him and the data core from the surge of almost blinding energy, which slammed into the escape pod with almost devastating force. Lightning crackled through the interior in deadly, vibrant arcs of various blue hues. Control panels fried. The lights died. Several vital instruments exploded. Pieces of the escape pod were ripped from the hull and were whisked away, their lightness sending them shooting further and faster than the pod itself. And the escape pod wasn't moving slow. It tumbled violently, careening through the vacuum of space at a dangerous speed and shuddering, the explosion threatening to tear the entire thing apart around them. Zeb squeezed his lashes against his cheeks, using a combination of strength and bulk to keep himself and Kallus in place.

Kallus clung to him with unexpected force in return. His fingers dug deep into his fur and his nails scraped against the soft skin beneath. His legs hooked around him as though to hold Zeb in place as the escape pod tumbled over and over, the circle seeming relentless as the shockwave drove them further and further out.

It could have been minutes.

It could have been hours.

Zeb didn't know how much time passed between the explosion and the gradual slowing of the escape pod. He didn't know how far the pod had travelled amid such a powerful shockwave. All he knew was that one moment the pod was still turning, and the next his stomach had settled as the pod stopped rolling, though it still drifted through the vacuum of space. Nothing was ever motionless in space -- gravity, somewhere, always affected whatever floated through the vacuum.

Kallus still clung to him -- as though he hadn't noticed the escape pod had stopped rolling.

Zeb glanced down at Kallus.

Something inside him clenched to see how pale Kallus was. The violent explosion seemed to have stolen the colour right out of his skin. It unnerved Zeb, who'd never seen Kallus filled with so much fear before. He'd seen him furious and stricken with regret. He'd seen him incapacitated with pain. He'd seen him bursting with endless energy, craving to get in on the action once he'd grown accustomed to life with the rebellion.

But terrified? 

No.

Seeing him like that wasn't natural.

Zeb relinquished the bulkhead and touched his shoulder, hoping to reassure him. Kallus startled at his touch and recoiled almost immediately, scrambling to get out from under him and put himself back together. Zeb ignored the sting the reaction earned. He knew Kallus didn't mean it. An unexpected touch could startle even the toughest warrior after he'd seen enough war.

And Kallus had seen his fair share.

Just like him.

Zeb turned over and shuffled until he sat with his back against the bulkhead. He leaned his head back and watched Kallus move towards the control panels, knowing none of them would respond to his touch. Not after the shockwave fried them. Zeb wasn't surprised to hear a frustrated snarl escape Kallus a moment later. Nor was he surprised to see the man glaring down at the panels as though each unresponsive switch and button had offended him on a personal level.

"We're dead."

"I know."

The words felt like a death sentence on his tongue and Zeb almost hissed at himself in anger. His ears flattened against his head for a moment. Zeb dug his claws into the palms of his hands and the sharp sting soothed him.

"Move. I need to find the toolkit."

Zeb almost snorted. He'd been fixing ships for a long time and he was certain that all attempts to fix the escape pod would be a wasted effort. But if Kallus needed something to keep himself occupied until Sabine and the others found them...then Zeb wasn't going to interfere. Zeb knew how important it was to keep dark thoughts at bay; he'd sought his own distractions in the past.

That was how Hera and Kanan found him in the first place.

A sad smile curled his lips for a moment.

Zeb moved easily, distracting himself from his own thoughts and revealing a few storage panels that he hadn't realised were there before. But that wasn't a surprise. He wasn't an expert on Imperial ships. He knew how to blow them up, sure, but that wasn't the same as knowing where Imperials stored their rations and toolkits.

The expert on how Imperials worked was Kallus.

Zeb watched Kallus mutter to himself as he rummaged through the toolkit. He watched him turn away, throwing familiar walls up around himself. Something in his chest panged to see Kallus still so closed off after all this time, unable to let people get close to him.

But Zeb knew it wasn't his fault.

The crushing weight of an Empire didn't make forging friendships easy, not when voicing one wrong word in front of the wrong person could be the last mistake a man might make. Imperials were tight-laced and tighter-lipped. Imperials weren't like the rebel alliance or the Honor Guard he'd once served in. There was no love and no loyalty, no trust.

The shadow of a knife to the back never stopped stalking them.

It would take Kallus a long time to break through old habits.

Zeb would be there, waiting, when he did. He could promise his mate that much -- even if he never said the words aloud. It was the least he could do to support Kallus after he'd worked so hard to change his allegiance, his beliefs, his fate, and the fates of countless others depending on the rebel alliance. Zeb knew joining the rebels hadn't been easy; diving into the unknown never was.

It wasn't difficult to remember the rampant distrust in the new base on Yavin 4 when Kallus joined them at last. Nor the palpable hatred from several rebels. He'd helped ruin the lives of so many; it wasn't surprising that some believed his defection to be a lie -- a plan to ruin the rebel alliance from within.

Blessed with an acute sense of hearing, Zeb had overheard several tense arguments himself during those first few weeks. Some were more memorable than others and none more so than the argument that had threatened to splinter the High Command into factions. The idea of putting Kallus in the intelligence division -- where his skills would be best suited -- had been seen as a dangerous mistake. One that could cost them their lives.

"Trusting that piece of scum will ruin the rebel alliance," the digitised projection of Senator Vaspar had snarled during their first meeting on the new base, after the _Ghost_ crew had risked their lives rescuing Kallus, and after the alliance had fled their former base on Atollon to escape the Empire. "He shouldn't be there! Our new base will be at risk!"

Zeb, who'd been instructed to watch over a sleeping Kallus in the medbay, had heard the accusation without even making an effort. He'd almost snarled upon hearing the words. The sight of a battered and bruised Kallus had been the one thing that kept his rising rage in check -- he'd never do something to jeopardise his healing. Instead of snarling, he'd moved closer to the bed. Zeb had stared down at Kallus, at the evidence of his beating at the hands of Grand Admiral Thrawn and his Imperial thugs.

Zeb had wanted to punch Vaspar in the face for what he'd said.

The rebel alliance had survived because Kallus had looked into the face of his own death and he'd smiled with grim determination. He'd warned them despite knowing he'd be discovered. He'd faced down Thrawn with his bare hands. He'd lost the fight physically, but the fire burning in his heart had threatened to engulf him from within.

That fire had brought him to Zeb.

"He's wrong," Zeb had murmured softly, unable to stop himself from reaching out and running a soothing hand over thick locks of dark red hair, so dark it seemed almost brown at times, as an expression of distress contorted battered features. Kallus had seemed to soften almost as soon as Zeb touched him and a tiny, oft ignored part of himself had dared to hope for something he couldn't have. Zeb had watched the distress bleed away, leaving Kallus looking small and vulnerable.

His natural instincts had almost threatened to overwhelm him then.

Zeb had forced himself to step away, to pull his hand away, and he'd hated how wrong it felt to do so. He'd hated himself then. He'd hated the Empire and the war, though that hatred was nothing new to him. He'd hated the Ashla for doing this to him -- for giving him a mate that would never understand the instincts buried within him. But Zeb still hadn't been able to tear his gaze away, not when Kallus had turned his head in his sleep as though searching for the warmth he'd lost.

Strands of soft gold hair had appeared then as the light hit Kallus just right.

Gold.

The colour of the blossoms that had once circled the pillars at the palace.

Zeb had turned away, almost collapsing into the single chair in the room. He'd buried his face in his hands and he'd almost choked on a wave of grief and shame. He'd trembled under the strength of that wave for what seemed like an eternity, until new voices made themselves known.

Overhearing Hera arguing on behalf of his mate, vouching for his trustworthiness, had warmed something deep within him. It had soothed the shame that gnawed at his gut. It had reminded him that, while the past was set in stone forever, the future was forever changing because one individual had the power to change so much -- for themselves and for the future.

Hera trusted Kallus because Zeb did.

Because Kallus saved Sabine and saved Ezra.

Because he'd saved Zeb.

Because something in Kallus had shifted that night in the cave.

Something had shifted in Zeb too.

Zeb had sensed the change before he'd had a chance to come to terms with it. He wasn't a fool -- not about this. He knew his own mind and he understood his own connection to the Ashla despite what felt like a lifetime of estrangement. He'd felt the Ashla drawing them together that night. He'd recognised the almost possessive surge of protectiveness that washed over him when he'd inhaled a mouthful of pain that almost extinguished the familiar hint of earth and iron that teased his senses whenever he'd encountered his mate in battle.

Zeb almost growled at the memory, the remembered scent of pain sour against his tongue. He stared at Kallus now, remembering how brave he'd been despite the promise of certain death in a barren wasteland of ice and snow, with no hope of survival without help from someone who'd rather see him dead. He'd seen through the hard exterior to the heart of a rebel that night. Zeb had found himself admiring Kallus and hating himself for it.

But he'd followed his instincts. 

He'd followed the guiding whispers from the Ashla.

And he'd protected Kallus that night. He'd goaded him, worming under his skin, forcing the efficient cogs in that clever, but ignorant brain of his to start turning in the right direction. He'd felt the cogs turning with each word that broke through the silence that night when conversation was the one tool left to distract them both from the sharpening cold.

Zeb hadn't allowed himself to hope that those cogs would keep turning without him. He hadn't allowed himself to hope that Kallus would continue to seek the truth of his own volition. He hadn't allowed himself to hope that one night together on a frostbitten moon would be enough to change the course of their shared destiny, but Zeb had to make an offer when the _Ghost_ arrived to collect him all the same.

Zeb had to give him the choice.

Kallus had to understand that he had one in the first place.

_Come with me._

Zeb had almost said the words that day, the pair of them shivering amid violent flurries of snow, the bonds of mutual survival tethering them together despite the remembered massacre doing its best to keep them apart. He'd felt the words sitting on the tip of his tongue. Zeb had glanced over his shoulder at his crew, his newfound family, before focusing on Kallus again.

"You'd be treated fairly," Zeb had said instead. He'd hated himself for feeling a burst of anxiety, watching Kallus glance at his crew before focusing on Zeb, his gaze shining like stardust. He'd hated himself for noticing the brief glint of... _something_ in that gaze and feeling his chest hitch with something akin to hope.

Zeb had hated the wave of crushing disappointment that surged when Kallus chose to remain. But it hadn't stopped Zeb from walking away, from returning to his crew and leaving Kallus there to wait for an Empire that might never have found him.

Kallus had made his choice.

Fortunately, he'd realised that he made the wrong one not long after.

And now, the two of them were trapped together again.

Zeb couldn't help wondering what else would change. Clearly, the Ashla had plans for them. He didn't know what those plans were, but he trusted the Ashla to guide them both. His lashes fluttered to rest against his cheeks for a moment. His frame relaxed around a long sigh. It was comforting, knowing the Ashla hadn't abandoned him after what happened on Lasan. Knowing that having Kallus as his mate wasn't meant as a punishment after all.

Zeb looked at Kallus again.

_No_ , Zeb told himself assuredly, _not a punishment at all. Just a challenge. And I've never backed down from a challenge._

And neither did Kallus, or so it seemed as he continued working to repair an escape pod that didn't have a chance of being fixed. Not without parts to replace what had been fused, fried, or obliterated during the explosion. And who even knew what vital parts had been ripped from the hull outside. It would be impossible to know without running a full diagnostic, which wasn't possible without restoring a modicum of functional power to the escape pod.

Kallus didn't give up. He was as stubborn as a Wookie. That much was obvious to Zeb as Kallus buried himself in a tangle of wires, broken components, and scorched durasteel plates for two hours, working up a fruitless sweat as his aggravation climbed higher and higher. 

Zeb smiled in amusement as he listened to the stream of muttered curses that escaped Kallus, whose deep and rich voice suited such words despite his tight-laced background. But his amusement faded when Kallus ripped his shirt off and tossed it away, growling, flooding the escape pod with his scent as sweat shined on his skin despite the growing chill surrounding them. Distress soured his natural scent. His undershirt stank with it. Zeb swallowed the surge of nausea that rose and climbed to his feet quickly, moving toward his mate without an ounce of hesitation.

"Ya have to breathe." Zeb ignored the immediate flinch his touch elicited and squeezed his shoulder gently, retracting his claws to avoid cutting Kallus. He could feel his blood thundering, thumping against his hand like drums. He could almost hear his lungs seizing up. Zeb squeezed his shoulder a fraction harder, tighter, wanting nothing more than to rub his face against his pulse point until the distress of his mate faded. "Ain't no point in stressin' over a bunch of wires. Sabine will find us."

"You don't know that." Kallus spoke through a clenched jaw. He gripped the tools in his hands until his knuckles whitened, highlighting a scattering of faint freckles. It looked like a constellation and it distracted Zeb until Kallus continued harshly, "We don't even know whether she escaped the Destroyer."

"Oh, she escaped."

"Your optimism is alarming."

"Yeah. Well. Yer pessimism is disturbin'."

"I'm being realistic," Kallus corrected sharply, shrugging his hand off and turning to face Zeb, his mouth twisting around a snarl of anger. The stardust in his gaze ignited. Kallus shoved Zeb back a step and then another. His voice continued to rise until he wasn't quite shouting, the words bouncing off the walls and threatening to deafen Zeb. "The escape pod is dead and we're drifting further and further away, and we're going to freeze to death sooner or later unless I can get the environmental controls somewhat operational. Being _furry_ , you might last longer, but I don't have that _luxury_. And I don't want to go out like this! Either help me or let me be!"

Zeb swallowed the instinctive growl that threatened to rise. He curled his hands into fists, digging his claws into his palms, and almost burned with simultaneous urges to punch his mate in the face or to slam him against the closest bulkhead and kiss him until his knees buckled. Zeb wasn't sure which urge was louder, stronger, more insistent.

Both clammered at him like jarring alarms.

Kallus moved to shove him again.

Zeb seized his wrists in one swift move and watched as Kallus blinked in surprise. He twisted his wrists quickly, but carefully, unwilling to hurt him even as he forced Kallus to drop the tools in his grasp. Kallus stared up at him wildly, anger replaced with discomfort as Zeb moved further into his personal space until their faces were mere inches apart.

"Ya think I want to die in here like some caged animal?" Zeb couldn't help snarling the words, his fur bristling along his neck and shoulders. He tightened his grip a fraction and was relieved to feel his pulse cooling, knowing it would help bring Kallus back to his senses in some shape or form. "Ya might want to think again."

"Garazeb --"

"Don't bother apologisin'." Zeb released him and turned away, his fur still bristling. He moved away, returning to his original spot next to the bulkhead and settling down with a scowl as Kallus continued to stare at him. "Just don't act like I don't care about what happens to us. 'Cause I do. Ya think I've been sittin' here for no reason? Someone has to keep their strength in reserve for when it starts to freeze in here. Ya wanna waste energy? Fine. I won't stop ya. But I ain't goin' to let ya freeze."

Kallus stared at him for several moments more, hands free and lips parted. A hint of something unnameable flickered across his gaze before vanishing, his usual mask slotting back into place as a shiver rippled through his muscular frame. Kallus retrieved his shirt and pulled it back on quickly, his bare arms and shoulders disappearing beneath it.

Doing so ruffled his hair.

With his hair messy, Kallus seemed to lose a decade of life and experience, leaving him soft and almost fresh. It suited him.

But Zeb wasn't going to tell him that.

Finally, Kallus said quietly, "I'll...slow down. But I can't just abandon the hope that I can get the pod working again."

"I know," Zeb answered with a sigh. He rubbed the back of his head and avoided looking at his mate for a moment. "And I understand. I do. But...ya have to remember...the line between hope and desperation ain't large and it ain't clear. Crossin' it is easier than ya think."

Kallus opened his mouth to respond and then closed it again without speaking, as though he'd thought better of whatever he'd been about to voice. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. Kallus looked at Zeb for another long moment before returning his focus to the mess of wires and components at his feet with a renewed sense of purpose, though it lacked the same frenzied desperation from before.

Zeb couldn't help feeling a wave of relief at knowing he'd gotten through to Kallus in some small fashion. He leaned his head back against the bulkhead and started counting Choppers and Ezras in his head. An amused and fond chuckle escaped Zeb as the two of them shouted and beeped back and forth in his head as one chased the other in an endless loop, reminding him so much of home and what waited for him when Sabine located them.

Two dozen rounds of Choppers and Ezras passed before Kallus broke the silence without warning, admitting quietly, "You know...I'm still not sure how the two of us managed to get in and out without being seen. It was a terrible plan and the _Ghost_ crew has had a lot of those before, so I have a lot of plans to compare it with."

"Ya can thank the Ashla. It guided us."

"You've put a lot of faith in something that can't be seen."

"Don't have to see the Ashla to know it's there." Zeb shrugged a little as he focused on Kallus, lifting his head from where it rested against the bulkhead. He didn't know how to explain it. He wasn't a Jedi -- no matter how often Kanan claimed that the Ashla was strong in him or that his bo-rifle wasn't dissimilar from a lightsaber in how it channelled the Ashla at his command. Zeb didn't have the words or the lifetime of wisdom required to help Kallus understand. "Sometimes…a feelin' is enough. I can't explain it better than that."

Kallus harrumphed in response. But he didn't argue the point.

"I'm just glad to be out of those boots," Zeb groused after a beat of silence. He grimaced at the memory, remembering how the material pinched his feet and threw off his balance after he'd struggled to pull them on. He'd wobbled around like a kit learning to walk as General Draven -- who'd managed to scrounge up a pair that still wasn't quite large enough to fit his prehensile feet -- cast a quelling glance at several intelligence officers snickering behind their screens. Zeb could still feel the humiliation burning his face even now. "I don't know how people wear 'em."

"You didn't have to wear them for long, at least."

"If I never have to wear boots again, it'll be too soon."

"You didn't have to come." Kallus shrugged as he ripped a handful of fused wires out of their sockets. "There were other operatives available for the mission. You made the choice. Complaining now won't change things."

Zeb waved a dismissive hand and rested his head against the bulkhead once more. He couldn't help remembering how their mission began -- with him and Kallus diving out the back of a cloaked and stolen ship as it passed under the Star Destroyer, clad in space suits comprised of parts scrounged from countless people across the entire base at Yavin 4, while Sabine and the other rebels selected for the mission impersonated Imperials and approached in the open.

It had been easier to find pieces to fit Kallus. He might have been tall and strong, but his build was common enough. 

Not like Zeb.

Space suits weren't designed with people like Zeb in mind.

It didn't matter, Zeb supposed. That part of the mission was over.

Kallus had ignited his thruster pack with practiced precision and he'd led the way, calm and confident despite the enormous ship filled to bursting with enemies hovering overhead. He'd led Zeb to a maintenance hatch and he'd opened it easily, scoffing under his breath at how lax the Imperials were in that division.

It had amused Zeb to hear the man so offended.

Once the two of them had slipped through the hatch and found themselves in a room filled with sleeping maintenance droids, Zeb had almost ripped his boots into pieces in his haste to get the awful things off, and his helmet had soon followed. A shudder of distaste had rippled through Zeb, leaving his fur standing on end for a moment.

Kallus had touched his shoulder, quick and fleeting. Just enough to get his commiseration across before he divested himself of his own suit and headed for the door silently, his blaster in hand and a determined expression on his bearded face. 

Zeb hadn't hesitated to follow, his bo-rifle gripped in his own hands, the weight a familiar comfort. He'd sent the Ashla a silent but fervent prayer, hoping it would guide them to their destination in one piece and allow them to retrieve the data core without issue.

The Ashla hadn't let him down.

Somehow, Zeb and Kallus had found themselves entering corridor after corridor moments after troopers and officers had disappeared around corners up ahead. Even the usual droids were nowhere to be seen. Neither of them had to fire a single shot in their pursuit of the data core. It had relieved Zeb while it had unnerved Kallus, who wasn't used to witnessing the kind of luck that the Ashla could sometimes provide.

"This is unnatural," Kallus had muttered as he'd peeked around a corner to find another vacant corridor waiting, the sound of footsteps fading in the distance.

"Don't knock it." Zeb had thumped his shoulder as he'd admonished him quietly, earning a faint grunt of surprised discomfort. He'd then steered Kallus around the corner as the man soothed his shoulder almost absently, their fingers brushing against each other for the briefest instant. Zeb had ignored the instant spark of pleasure that shot through him as he'd added quietly, "Ya wanted the mission to succeed. We're succeedin'."

"Yes. Well. Famous last words."

Zeb couldn't help chuckling at the memory, fondness for his mate welling in his chest despite how frustrating Kallus could be at times. A large part of him hoped he and Kallus would get to run more missions together, though most of Kallus' work kept him stuck behind a desk. It was a rare mission that required Kallus to step into danger himself and a much smaller part of Zeb was relieved about that.

Knowing his mate was safe at the base often soothed Zeb whenever he and the rest of the crew had to venture out on missions. Knowing he didn't have to be concerned about Kallus took an enormous weight off his shoulders. Lately, Zeb spent far too much of his time stressing about the whereabouts of his friends and family, knowing that one wrong move could bring his whole world crashing down around his ears again.

But still...Zeb couldn't refute the thrill that sparked through him when he and Kallus were assigned to the same mission. It was a privilege to see Kallus light up with such excitement and determination. And it was a pleasure to see him stick it to the Empire however he could. Hopefully, one day, Kallus would develop enough hope and faith to match his enthusiasm and determination to wreak havoc.

Rebellions were built on hope, after all.

Zeb returned to counting Choppers and Ezras then.

Time passed as he entertained himself with the same relentlessness that Kallus applied to fixing the pod. Briefly, the escape pod flared to life when Kallus tested his handiwork...before shuddering, sending a plume of smoke into the cabin as the control panels sparked angrily, and then cutting out and refusing to respond a second time. 

Zeb coughed and waved smoke out of his face.

Kallus cursed and threw the tool in his hand at the durasteel bulkhead. It hit the bulkhead with a clatter. He kicked the offending control panels then. Unfortunately, the fool lashed out with his bad leg. A grunt of pain escaped Kallus as he lost his balance and landed in the chair, the force of his landing sending him swivelling to face Zeb, who couldn't stop a grin from crawling across his face.

"Ya have to be more careful --"

" _Garazeb_ \--"

"I'm just sayin' --"

" _One_ more word and I _swear_ \--"

Zeb and Kallus huffed in frustration at the same time and paused as their breaths misted in front of them. Simultaneously, the pair of them looked at the transparisteel window to see ice beginning to form at the edges. The growing ice looked so soft and pretty, and it promised a horrible death if Sabine didn't find them first.

Zeb and Kallus looked at each other, their disagreement forgotten. 

Hands shaking, Kallus returned to his work.

Zeb straightened against the bulkhead and watched him closely, knowing that seeing the ice had alarmed Kallus, knowing it wouldn't take much for his mate to return to the same frenzied desperation he'd exhibited earlier. He couldn't let that happen. He couldn't just sit back and watch Kallus hurt himself with his own fervour.

Fear could make fools of even the bravest men sometimes.

Zeb knew that from personal experience.

Kallus worked rapidly, the shake in his hands vanishing as he regained his focus. He didn't look at the ice again. He didn't look at Zeb. He worked single-mindedly, his focus so narrow that Zeb wasn't sure Kallus could feel his face and hands turning red from the cold as the ice continued forming, expanding across the small transparisteel window.

Zeb glanced at the growing ice now and then. He watched it begin to form at the edges of the larger transparisteel window, which loomed over Kallus and his minefield of wires and components. He watched the mist of their breaths deepen with each failed attempt to bring the escape pod back to life. Zeb thanked the Ashla for his fur, for the help it would bring when it grew too cold to keep working, and asked that the Ashla help Kallus find faith that Sabine would find them before it was too late.

Zeb wasn't sure how much time passed. He lost count somewhere between the fifth and sixth attempt to bring the escape pod back to life. A thin sheet of ice covered the full length of the large window before Kallus released a pained cry, one of his tools slicing straight across his palm. Zeb was up and over to him before the tool even hit the floor.

Zeb caught his wrist without hesitation and pulled his hand toward him quickly, ignoring his squawk of outrage. His touch gentled as he inspected the cut. The laceration wasn't too deep, but just deep enough to be worrisome. The edges were jagged and ugly, and a harsh red from the cold sharpening around them. It would scar. The laceration bled sluggishly; one small thing to thank the cold for. Zeb couldn't stop a concerned rumbling from rising in his chest.

"I'll find the medkit." 

Zeb returned with the medkit a few moments later and couldn't stop himself from growling when Kallus reached to take it with his good hand. He could feel that surge of possessive protectiveness flaring again. Just like when he'd hauled Kallus out of the wreckage on Bahryn. Just like when he'd strapped his leg. Zeb pulled the medkit out of reach.

"I'll take care of it. Sit down."

"I can take care of myself."

Kallus spat the words harshly, his face pale with pain apart from the tip of his nose and the barest ridge of his cheeks. His ears were almost as red as an Inquisitor's saber. Kallus retreated a step and cradled his injured hand close to his chest. 

"I know that." Zeb stepped back into his personal space without hesitation and seized his shoulder, gripping tight. He pressed until Kallus folded into the chair behind him once more. Zeb ignored his obstinate scowl and continued determinedly, "But that doesn't mean I can't help sometimes. Or that others can't. Ya don't have to be independent all the time. S'what friends and allies are for."

_S'what mates are for._

Zeb didn't voice the words hanging on the tip of his tongue. He couldn't voice them. No matter how much it ached to keep the truth locked so deep inside. His throat tightened a fraction before he managed to say, "Now shut up and just let me work. Alright?"

Kallus said nothing, but he didn't offer further resistance. Slowly, but reluctantly, he held his injured hand out and offered it to Zeb, who took a moment to sanitize his hands with a dollop of sterilisation gel before accepting the offered hand with a gentleness he didn't often exhibit in front of Kallus.

Something unnameable skittered across Kallus' features for an instant.

Zeb pretended not to notice as he frowned down at the injury, wondering how best to treat it. He'd treated his fair share of wounds before -- it was an unfortunate consequence of war, after all -- but he'd never had to treat one that sliced straight across the palm. It wasn't the best spot for an injury; hands had so much nerve-endings that even a small cut _hurt_. Zeb could taste the vibrant pain Kallus felt on his tongue and it left him wanting to rip the tool that caused it to pieces.

Zeb reached for the bacta gel first. Carefully, he smeared it across the wound and winced as the scent of pain sharpened -- though Kallus didn't make a sound. His often gruff features softening, he looked at Kallus and watched him for a moment. Zeb hated knowing Kallus was in pain and was too closed off to express it.

Didn't trust people enough to express it.

Didn't trust Zeb enough.

But he didn't expect Kallus to snap viciously, "Stop looking at me like that!"

"Like what?" Zeb grumbled. "Like ya matter?"

Kallus looked away, his jaw clenching hard.

And that…

That was when Zeb realised what was going on. What made Kallus keep his distance and fight so hard when Zeb attempted to help, attempted to show that he cared about what happened to him. The realisation hit Zeb like a sudden punch to the gut. It robbed him of breath with such force that he staggered back a step in surprise.

His continued distance wasn't from a lack of trust after all.

"Kallus…did the Empire even search for us?"

Kallus snapped his attention back to Zeb, his surprise at the sudden line of questioning causing his jaw to grow slack. Something haunted flickered in his gaze for the briefest instance. His uninjured hand clenched into a fist so tight that Zeb could almost hear the joints creaking and the bones straining against their limits.

"Hey," Zeb said quickly, dropping the stitches back into the medkit in favour of capturing his other hand. His heart clenched when Kallus flinched and tried to pull away, but Zeb held on fast. He covered his hand in warmth and tried to comfort Kallus as well as he could. Comforting humans wasn't among his list of skills. His natural instincts were geared towards Lasat behaviour and how he'd comfort one of his own. But Zeb tried all the same. "Ya don't have to answer the question. I shouldn't have asked."

"No."

"I know. I just said I shouldn't have --"

"The answer," Kallus whispered raggedly, cutting him off as emotion boiled to the surface. His gaze dropped to focus on his knees. His frame tightened immeasurably, so much so that Zeb feared he'd hurt something, and Kallus was in too much pain for him to tolerate as it was. "The answer is no. I was left for dead. Written off. Scrapped like a broken part."

Zeb couldn't stop an enraged growl from rumbling up through the barrel of his chest and filling the escape pod. His sharp claws extended against his will. His instincts left him wanting to go back and tear Kallus’ old superiors apart with his bare hands for abandoning Kallus, for leaving his mate so convinced of his own worthlessness that he couldn't handle the idea that someone might care for him at all. 

His hatred for the Empire intensified. 

A heartbeat passed and then another.

And then Kallus flexed his injured hand and reminded him of what he was supposed to be doing. 

Zeb shoved down his natural instincts with immense effort. He retracted his claws and soothed the vulnerable flesh he'd pinched with a gentle thumb, all too aware that Kallus had shoved his emotions back down and concealed them behind his usual mask. Zeb didn't know which was worse -- seeing the mask back in place or knowing just how much unspoken pain and anguish never reached the surface. He shook his head and focused on the task at hand in order to ground himself. Zeb retrieved the adhesive stitches again and applied them carefully, pinching the edges of the laceration together with an apologetic grimace on his face.

Kallus kept his face controlled. He didn't flinch or wince as Zeb tended to his hand. He avoided looking at Zeb, choosing instead to stare at the mess of wires and broken parts surrounding them.

"Ya can't keep workin'," Zeb said gruffly, beginning to wrap his hand with care. Kallus looked at him then and Zeb didn't hesitate to explain further. "Ya might pull the stitches and there aren't enough left to stitch it up again. You'll have to sit this one out."

"You must be delighted."

Zeb bit back the irritated growl that threatened to rise at the jibe, knowing Kallus was still so raw beneath that calm veneer. He could let it slide for now. He could be the bigger man. Kallus had enough on his plate without the two of them sniping back and forth at each other. And Zeb had more important things to do, knowing it wouldn't be long until he had an armful of shivering human to take care of as the escape pod continued to freeze around them.

Zeb secured the bandages as well as he could with hands so large and clumsy, at least compared to the much smaller hands of the man sitting in front of him. Kallus watched him work all the while and reclaimed his hand the moment Zeb let go, pulling it back towards his chest as though he wanted to hide the evidence that Zeb cared about what happened to him. His heart clenching, Zeb returned to his spot beside the bulkhead and waited patiently, knowing Kallus would move in his direction before long.

Kallus remained in the chair for just over an hour, no longer looking at Zeb, but still cradling his injured hand close to his chest. He didn't move until the minute shivers rippling through his frame were almost constant. Kallus approached slowly, and so reluctantly, and settled down a foot away, hissing as the growing cold of the durasteel wall found the expanse of his back -- even through his shirt. Kallus shuddered hard and wrapped his arms around himself before muttering, "Just like old times."

"Not quite." Zeb reached out and seized Kallus immediately, hauling his mate straight into his arms and depositing him between the spread of his broader, stronger, _warmer_ legs. He ignored the strained noise that escaped Kallus, choosing instead to tuck his mate's head under his chin. He pressed with just enough force for Kallus to realise there would be no escape. Not without a fight. And that would be such an awful waste of their strength. "Ya don't want me dead this time. Least I hope not."

"The temptation is high."

Zeb couldn't help grinning, amusement warming him from the inside. Subtly, he inhaled a mouthful of earth and iron and tightened his arms around Kallus, knowing it would take a while for the insecure and uptight man to relax into his embrace. He didn't mind waiting, not when he had an armful of his mate and his natural instincts were threatening to purr from just how right it felt to have Kallus so close. Zeb could almost hear the Ashla whispering, urging him to continue cultivating his bond with Kallus.

A lifetime seemed to pass before Kallus began relaxing, one inch at a time. 

Zeb could feel his mate softening gradually, his natural warmth a comfort in the face of the cold sharpening around them. He could feel his distress and fear easing, though the pain of his hand remained to throb in time with his heartbeat. Eventually, Kallus became almost limp in his embrace, aside from the odd shiver that continued to affect him.

"Not so bad, is it?" 

"I hate this."

"Liar," Zeb answered wryly, a deep chuckle rumbling in this throat. His chuckle almost morphed into a deeper laugh when Kallus squirmed in his arms. Just enough for him to notice his growing embarrassment. "Ya know I've a sensitive nose. Ya like it and we both know it. The nose doesn't lie."

"Shut up."

"You'll have to make me."

"Let me go and I'll do so!"

"Nice try," Zeb said cheerfully, another chuckle rising in his throat. He brought his legs a fraction closer together, cocooning Kallus in a blanket of warmth. "Ya won't be escapin' me until Sabine finds us."

Kallus muttered a stream of curses under his breath and then gave up. 

Zeb almost crowed in triumph.

The next hour passed slowly, the ice thickening over the transparisteel windows. Zeb could hear the ice compacting, and spreading out across the exterior durasteel an inch at a time. On the interior, the ice crawled across the walls, slow and unnerving, creeping towards them. Zeb watched the ice spread warily, though not quite enough to lose faith in Sabine. 

Kallus, however…

The scent of fear returned as the ice inched closer to them.

His mind whirring, and a plan of action formulating quickly, Zeb said firmly, "C'mon. Tell me somethin' I don't know."

"You'll need to be more specific."

Zeb could almost hear the smirk crawling across his stupid face. He didn't hesitate to pinch Kallus, who surprised him with a startled squeak. Almost like a little mouse. Zeb couldn't help grinning into his hair, knowing Kallus wouldn't appreciate the comparison.

"Yer favourite colour."

"Purple."

"Really," Zeb asked sharply, his chest hitching with something akin to hope. His ears twitched with interest. The whispering from the Ashla seemed to grow louder, more encouraging, though Zeb tried to ignore it and focus on the man wrapped up in his arms. "Purple?"

"No."

"Oh." His ears drooped as Zeb offered a short response. Too short to read too much into. Silence fell between them as Zeb grappled with the disappointment gnawing at him. Zeb knew he shouldn't feel disappointed that the colour of his fur wasn't Kallus' favourite colour. It wasn't as though his mate had ever given a conscious indication that something other than friendship was on the table. Zeb wasn't even sure Kallus was interested in men in the first place. Finally, Zeb managed to push his disappointment down and say, "Well. What is it then? If it isn't purple?"

"I don't know," Kallus answered sharply, his frame tensing as Zeb continued questioning him. "I've never given it much thought. Comparing and contrasting colours to see if we liked them wasn't on the Imperial agenda."

"Ya ain't an Imperial now."

"Your point?"

"Well. Ya have time to think about it now. About all the things the Empire doesn't care about. Yer favourite colour. Yer favourite animal. Karabast! I don't know! Yer favourite drink!"

"I'll think about all that when the Emperor is dead and the Empire is no more. Until then...none of those things matter enough for me to spend time thinking about them. I have too much work to do."

"You're wrong." Zeb shook his head. He tightened his arms around Kallus, unable to help himself. He wasn't surprised to hear Kallus huff in irritation. Zeb ignored him and continued firmly, "Those things matter a lot more than ya think. A man ain't complete until he knows himself. Sometimes it can take a lifetime to find that understandin', but it's worthwhile. S'important."

"I don't want to argue about this. Just ask me a different question."

"Fine." Zeb swallowed a frustrated growl. "Ya better not lie this time."

"I won't. But I insist on having the option to decline answering."

"Ya make it sound like this is an interrogation." Zeb huffed against his hair, his breath disturbing a few sun-bleached strands. Kallus twitched in his embrace briefly, but the tension soon started bleeding back out of his smaller frame. Zeb smiled despite his frustration with his mate. His voice softened. "I'm just tryin' to get to know ya. We spend so much time together at Yavin Four, but I still don't know a thing about ya. About who ya were before. Before the Empire."

"Who I was before doesn't matter," Kallus answered quietly, though his frame remained relaxed. His voice, however, contained notes of regret and sorrow, and perhaps even a hint of anger. Kallus rested his bandaged hand against his arm and Zeb felt the pulsating throb of his heartbeat through his injury, relieved to know that it remained calm and even despite their disagreement earlier. "That man is dead. The man I am now…get to know him instead."

"Ya can't solve a puzzle when most of the pieces are missin'."

"You...make a fair point."

"Yeah. Well. I wasn't made Captain of the Honor Guard 'cause I'm handsome."

Kallus surprised him with a burst of startled laughter, the unfamiliar sound soft and warm and deep. His laughter vibrated through his frame for several moments before fading, an almost pleased sigh following hot on its heels. 

Zeb blinked and swallowed thickly, a knot forming in his chest at the sound. He'd never heard Kallus laugh like that before. Not in all the months the pair of them had shared quarters at the base. Not even when sparring, which he'd argue was when Kallus was at his most relaxed -- despite how ferocious their sparring sessions could be. Usually, when Kallus found something funny, he'd offer a small quirk of his lips and that was it. Zeb wasn't sure how to handle a laughing Kallus.

But he knew he wanted to hear him laugh again.

Zeb thought for a moment or so before asking, his voice soft and laden with no small amount of uncertainty, "What was it like on Coruscant? Before the Empire took over, I mean. I never had a chance to go there."

"Tense." Kallus spoke quietly, but his voice was strong despite the return of tension to his shoulders. Zeb blinked when cold fingertips dug into the meat of his arm as though to keep Kallus grounded. "You know how long the Clone Wars raged as well as I do. As a city, Coruscant was untouched largely, but there were a few instances when the war reached the heart of the Republic. People were scared. Purses were stretched tight as taxes rose to fund a war that never seemed to end. Whispered arguments were common."

"Oh." Zeb's ears drooped. "Yer parents?"

"No." Kallus shook his head and released a long, sad sigh that seemed to hollow out his chest. His whole frame deflated. His hand gentled a fraction. "No, the arguments were out on the streets -- on street corners and under the cover of darkness. Father died in combat near the start of the war, and Mother died just a few months later. She was killed on a diplomatic mission."

"I'm sorry," Zeb said roughly, swallowing the knot that started to form in his throat. He tightened his arms around Kallus, knowing all too well how it felt to lose parents as a child. His own parents hadn't died in the war, but had wasted away, hospital bound and almost delirious, the faces of their children forgotten despite frequent visits. Really, his parents had died long before their hearts gave out. A quick death in combat would have been preferable -- to him and to his parents. But he'd never mention it to Kallus, not now, not after learning about what happened to Kallus’ parents. "It isn't easy," Zeb said eventually, nuzzling against his hair instinctively, "losing people that matter so much. No matter how it happens."

"Your understanding is…appreciated." Kallus bowed his head. Doing so pulled his hair away, putting as much distance between them as their positions allowed. Zeb longed to pull him close again and continue nuzzling, but didn't. "But I've had a long time to come to terms with their deaths. If anything, I'm relieved. Mother would hate what I've become. She was a pacifist and a better person than I could hope to be."

"Don't sell yerself short."

"I'm not."

"Kallus --"

"You wanted to ask questions." Kallus huffed in irritation and settled back against Zeb roughly, and without warning, the loose strands of his hair tickling his nose and lips. He drummed the meat of his arm with impatient fingers. "So ask me another question. Or we can stop talking now. Your choice."

Zeb pinched him with his claws and grinned in satisfaction when Kallus thumped his arm less than a moment later, his walls crumbling further. Getting him frustrated was the quickest route to bringing the storms beneath his calm veneer to the surface. Dealing with Kallus might be frustrating, and challenging, and sometimes left him wanting to bellow in fury, but seeing the former Imperial exhibit even the sharpest emotions was still a pleasure. It proved that there was something to show, that there was something lurking beneath the surface. One day, Zeb would drag it all out and Kallus would be laid bare at last.

"Keep goin'. Tell me what happened next."

"Mila took care of me."

"Mila?"

"My elder sister," Kallus said quietly, almost reluctantly, something sharp and painful underscoring the words. His fingers dug into his arm again.

Zeb could feel his nails scoring the skin beneath his fur. It stung sharply, the force almost enough to tear his skin. But he didn't mind the pain -- nor did he mind the prospect of bleeding -- as long as Kallus kept talking, kept opening up to him one word at a time. He'd welcome a thousand cuts as long as he could get to know his mate in some fashion.

"Mila was almost a decade older than me. She was training for a life of politics and the hope of being a senator one day, like Mother, but she gave up her studies to continue raising me instead. We were the last of our kin."

"What happened to her," Zeb asked softly, knowing a deep pain dwelled within those memories of Mila. A pain that Kallus hadn't recovered from. A pain unlike the one he'd come to associate with the loss of his parents beforehand.

"I'd rather not talk about it."

"Okay," Zeb answered quietly, respecting his quiet plea. He couldn't help nuzzling his hair again and inhaling a lungful of his scent. His hand moved to cover Kallus' where it gripped his arm and settled warmly, their fingers interlocking with surprising ease as Kallus relinquished his vice-grip.

Kallus released a startled breath that quivered in his chest.

Zeb's ears twitched at the sound.

Kallus cleared his throat. He tugged against his grip.

Zeb didn't release his hand. He couldn't. Not when there was still so much pain bubbling beneath the surface. Kallus needed to know that Zeb was there for him. No matter what happened or how much it hurt to open up. Zeb held tighter instead.

"Ya ever meet Senator Amidala? She came to Lasan to negotiate trade routes once. I liked her," Zeb announced quietly, deciding to give Kallus a reprieve from his barrage of questions. "She was fierce and kind. Just like our Queen."

Zeb found he couldn't shut up once he started talking about Senator Amidala and her brief visit to his homeworld. He'd been little more than a kit then. Not quite old enough to follow in his siblings' footsteps and begin training for the Honor Guard. Still rambunctious and almost more than his Nan could handle. But Zeb could remember the Senator as clear as day, how her dark tresses had tumbled down over her shoulders as she laughed at something the Jedi following close behind muttered to her. Zeb had been so surprised at how pleasant her laughter sounded that he'd fallen out of the tree he'd climbed and almost landed on her.

"Uh. Sorry," Zeb had grumbled in embarrassment. He'd rubbed the back of his head and looked down at himself to see twigs and leaves clinging to his fur. Not to mention the dirt staining his clothes. It hadn't been a great first impression -- not when his Nan had such an important seat on the council. "Didn't mean to almost fall on ya. Was distracted."

"It was an accident." Senator Amidala had smiled down at him warmly, the shape of her cheeks blooming. Zeb had been short for his age then -- the runt of his generation. He hadn't sprouted until the following summer. But his lack of height hadn't mattered when she'd smiled at him and touched his shoulder with a gentle hand. "You needn't apologise. Did it hurt?"

"No, Ma'am." Zeb had grinned up at her proudly, his chest puffing out as he did his best to appear regal despite the twigs and leaves clinging to his fur. He'd ignored the curl of amusement crossing the Jedi's face in the background. "Lasats are tough!"

"Undoubtedly," Senator Amidala had agreed seriously, tipping her head forward in acknowledgement. She'd turned to look at the Jedi behind her, who'd arched a scarred brow and tipped his head to the side slightly, before returning her attention to Zeb. "I have a meeting with the Queen and council shortly, but we'd love a tour afterwards. It would be an honour to spend time with such a formidable Lasat."

Zeb had beamed in delight. 

Senator Amidala had smiled right back at him and the Jedi had winked before the pair headed away, returning to their previous discussions.

Zeb had watched them go, wondering what brought them to Lasan and grateful for a chance to give a better second impression. He'd run straight home and stripped before climbing into the refresher, using the sonic setting to remove all the leaves, twigs, and dirt from his fur and feet. Not to mention from under his claws. Zeb had wanted to be immaculate when he next met the Senator and her companion. 

He'd donned his best clothes.

And had ignored the teasing from his eldest brother, who'd grinned around a mouthful of fruit as he'd leaned back in his chair, asking who his date was.

Zeb hadn't wanted to legitimise his questioning, not in the least. Not when he knew his brother would just get more obnoxious and more irritating as soon as he got his hands on a single scrap of information. Zeb had run nervous hands over his clothes instead before heading out and winding through the city, heading for the palace that stood sentinel over them all. He'd waited at the bottom of the stone steps for what felt like an eternity, ignoring the guardsmen watching him shrewdly, until Senator Amidala and her companion emerged at last. Zeb had almost jumped up from the steps at the sight of them.

Unfortunately, his Nan and the council weren't too far behind them. 

"Garazeb," Nan had exclaimed in surprise. She'd shuffled towards him as quick as she could while supporting herself with the new cane he'd whittled for her -- a gift to celebrate her birth. Her cascade of lavender and silver braids had swished from side to side as she walked. "You're not supposed to be here. You know that."

"I'm givin' them a tour," Zeb had answered quickly, mortified at the sound of his full name being spoken in public. No one had ever called him that except her. His fur had bristled a little. His ears had flattened against his head. "I was requested!"

"Oh." Nan had blinked at him in blatant shock and then blinked at the Senator, who'd just smiled in return. Then she'd focused on Zeb again. "Well. Just remember to be home for supper."

" _Nan_."

"I know, I know," Nan had replied as she waved a hand dismissively, winking at the Senator conspiratorially, "you don't like reminders that you're still a kit. You should humour me while I'm still around to be humoured."

" _Alright_." Zeb had almost huffed at his Nan. His claws had extended automatically, responding to his frustration and threatening to shred the material of his billowing sleeves. "Can we go now?!"

"Go, go, and have fun."

Zeb had looked at Senator Amidala pleadingly, and then he'd hurried away, not waiting for them to follow. He'd been mortified to hear her and the Jedi escorting her laughing quietly, amused at his expense. But he'd known it wasn't their fault -- his Nan just loved making him squirm. It was her favourite pastime.

It still was. 

Zeb supposed it was revenge for giving her more silver hairs than she'd wanted. 

"She sounds like someone I'd like."

"You wouldn't be the first. Senator Amidala was loved by many," Zeb answered.

"I didn't mean the Senator," Kallus corrected quietly, his head turning a fraction. Just enough to catch a glimpse of his face -- of the soft expression there. Kallus squeezed his hand without warning, surprising him. Something akin to concern flickered across his face then. "Your Nan. Is she still…?"

"Yeah. She survived Lasan." Zeb buried his face in the scent of his mate for a moment and thanked the Ashla once again for that small mercy, ignoring how his heart clenched in his chest when Kallus didn't recoil from his touch. "Not that she didn't do her best to go down fightin' like the rest of us. Busted hip and still braver than most people. We were together when the bomb went off."

"I'm glad she survived." Kallus squeezed his hand again and Zeb lifted his head to catch another glimpse of his face. But Kallus turned his face away, hiding his features once more. His often confident voice grew hesitant and unsure as he said quietly, "I'd like to meet her one day, if we get out of this."

"We will."

Silence fell between them once more. It wasn't awkward or uncomfortable. It wasn't even fraught with tension. Not to Zeb, at least. He couldn't be certain of what Kallus was feeling, but he took comfort in the knowledge that Kallus wasn't doing his best to pull away, to rebuild the walls that surrounded him. His walls remained weak and crumbling, allowing Zeb to peak inside now and then. Allowing them to remain connected in some small fashion.

It was more than Zeb had hoped for.

Zeb relaxed into the silence for a while. He didn't think about his past. He didn't think about his future. He focused on right now, on the weight of his mate against his chest and the familiar scent teasing his senses. He focused on the knowledge that Kallus seemed almost at peace for the first time since he'd known him. Smiling, Zeb nuzzled against his hair again.

A small breath escaped Kallus.

It wasn't a huff.

If he didn't know better, Zeb might have mistaken it for a sigh of contentment. But he did know better. But it didn't matter. He'd take whatever was on offer, no matter how small or insignificant. 

Almost an hour passed before Kallus asked quietly, "Does she know about me?"

"Nah." Zeb shook his head and sighed sadly, his chest tight with a sudden burst of longing. "I haven't spoken to her in a while. Or seen her. Too risky, now that I'm an active rebel. I know how to contact her, if I have to, and she can do the same. But we figured comm silence would be best. Safer that way, ya know?"

"Of course." Kallus paused for a moment. "I won't ask where she is."

"I wouldn't tell ya anyway," Zeb answered wryly, passing the tip of his tongue over a lethal fang less than a moment later. He shifted so that he could bring his head around enough to catch Kallus' gaze. He stared down at Kallus forcefully, his expression serious. "Don't take it personal or nothin'. It ain't meant to be. No one knows where she is, 'cept me, Hera, Draven, and a handful of Wookies. Not even Sabine knows. Keepin' Nan safe is all I want to do and I ain't jeopardisin' that."

"Garazeb, I understand. You don't have to explain."

"Good." Zeb settled back against the bulkhead easily, though a frisson of cold shot through him when he felt ice forming behind his back. A shudder rippled through him and then rippled through Kallus a moment later. A second followed suit between one heartbeat and the next. His arms tightened around Kallus automatically, but loosened when his mate grunted in complaint. "Sorry," Zeb grumbled awkwardly, his ears drooping as he let his arms loosen further. "I forget my own strength sometimes."

Kallus coughed a little and his free hand rose to touch the side of his chest.

"Did I hurt ya?" 

"No, no, of course not." Kallus shook his head quickly, his hand still pressing against his chest. "I did fall earlier. The bruising is just making itself known and the cold air isn't helping matters. You're not to blame."

"Ya need me to take a look?"

"No."

"Ya sure about that? 'Cause we won't be able to risk it later, is all."

" _Yes_."

"Alright." Zeb nodded even though Kallus couldn't see him nodding, nor even feel him do so. Not when he was leaning forward and massaging his chest carefully, taking in breaths that stuttered in his chest -- whether from the cold or the apparent bruising, Zeb wasn't sure. Possibly, it could be a mixture of both.

Eventually, Kallus leaned back against him of his own volition.

Zeb didn't hesitate to tuck his head under his chin again. Nor to wrap him up in his arms once more. He held Kallus through several shivers, listening to his teeth chatter all the while. He wasn't at that stage himself. Zeb might experience the odd shiver, but he still had a while to go before his own teeth started chattering.

The cold continued to sharpen. 

The ice continued to spread.

The mist from their frozen breaths began to cling to their hair and fur.

Zeb watched the colour of Kallus' ears change in increments. Their once vibrant red paled to a soft blue slowly, so slowly, and then deepened to a faint shade of purple. Zeb knew it wasn't a good sign. Knew his face and hands wouldn't be too far behind. 

"Kallus," Zeb said quietly, his voice hard with warning, watching several strands of sun-bleached hair frost over beneath his breath. "Ya need to tuck yer hands between our legs. Ya need to do it right now. I know yer hand hurts. But ya have to."

"I'm f-fine. I'll m-manage."

"I ain't askin'," Zeb snarled sharply, doing his best to ignore the faint cracks of breaking ice in his goatee. His ears twitched at the sound even so. "I'm orderin'. Don't make me do it for ya."

"Y-you can't order m-me." A strained huff of laughter escaped Kallus. But the man started coughing a moment later. Several heartbeats passed before Kallus managed to get his cough under control and say, "We're the same r-rank."

"Yeah. Well. I'm relievin' ya of command. Ya ain't fit for duty, Kallus. We both know it."

"Sash-ha."

"What?" Zeb frowned worriedly, afraid that Kallus might be further gone than he'd thought. He focused his full attention on Kallus, on the sound of his lungs rattling out breath after frostbitten breath. On the sound of his heart beating slowly, much slower than it had earlier. His arms tightened around Kallus. "What's that?"

"M'name."

"Yer name is Alexsandr."

"I know," Kallus said through another huff of laughter. His head turned slowly, as though looking for him. His frostbitten breath hit his jumpsuit and Zeb shivered as the cold air worked through the material to kiss his fur. "Sasha's a n-nickname. For c-close friends and f-family."

"Is that what we are?"

"Dunno."

Kallus -- _Sasha_ \-- attempted to shrug in his embrace, but the gesture didn't work as he'd planned. His powerful frame was too stiff and uncoordinated from the cold. His words weren't even working properly, Zeb knew. It was strange to hear Sasha stuttering and slurring his words when Zeb was so used to hearing clipped, precise sentences born from a lifetime of upper class Coruscanti education.

"But I don't w-want to be a surname n'more." Zeb felt his heart clench upon hearing the unfamiliar sound of helplessness and overwhelming grief dripping from each word as Sasha spoke. "S'been so l-long since I was Sash-ha. I jus'...jus' want to be Sasha ag-gain."

"Okay, Sasha. Okay," Zeb breathed softly, his arms tightening another fraction. The nickname felt strange on his tongue. But its strangeness didn't matter when he heard the pleased sigh that escaped Sasha a moment later. "Ya still have to tuck yer hands between our legs though."

Sasha did so sluggishly, a faint grunt of pain escaping him.

Several minutes of silence passed before Sasha spoke again.

"Mila'd adore y-you."

"I'm glad to hear it."

Zeb smiled sadly, knowing he'd never have the chance to meet her. Not like Sasha would get to meet his Nan once the war came to an end and the Empire was reduced to ashes. Sasha didn't have to open up about what happened to Mila for him to realise that much. Zeb didn't know all the particulars, but he could guess the outcome based on the overwhelming grief he'd witnessed earlier.

It didn't take a genius to guess what happened to Mila.

"Mila d-died when I was fift-teen." 

"Ya don't have to talk about it."

"No." Sasha shook his head weakly, his voice growing ragged. His emotions bubbled to the surface in an almost violent surge and Zeb almost choked on the powerful scent of his anguish. "You n-need to know. You need to u-unders-stand. I wasn't always l-like this. My parents...my s-sister…they were g-good people. They didn't raise a m-monster."

"Sasha --"

"Jus' lemme finish!"

Sasha devolved into a coughing fit almost as soon as the shout escaped him.

Zeb held him through it. He couldn't stop the coughing, couldn't stop the cold from settling in his chest. All he could do was hold Sasha and provide as much warmth and support as he could until Sabine and the others arrived.

Several minutes passed before the coughing eased at last.

The violent coughing fit almost drained Sasha completely, leaving him limp and weak in his embrace. But not even the cold could keep his stubbornness under control. It took a few moments to muster enough strength to keep talking, but Sasha managed.

"Mila was w-waiting for me to finish school. We were s-supposed to go for a bite to eat a-after. But I was running late. One of the t-teachers wanted to talk to m-me. We were still t-talking when I heard the explo-osion in the distance. M-Mila was d-dead when I reached her. D-dead and almost b-buried under the burning wreckage of a transport unit. She didn't s-survive but the man W-Windu was after did."

"Windu?"

"M-Master Windu. A Jedi." The broken noise that escaped Sasha then was almost inhuman. "All I s-saw was a handful of clone troopers hauling the man away, and W-Windu standing over Mila. And then he saw m-me r-running to her. Windu stopped me from reaching her. He saw me b-break in front of him and a-all he said was 'I’m sorry; I had to make a choice.' As if it absolved him from k-killing her."

Sasha shook violently, and the sudden scent of salt made Zeb realise the walls had shattered completely, and tears were falling. Ugly, heartbreaking tears. And Zeb hated them. Hated the salt that burned his senses. Hated how Sasha fell apart in his arms with such violence that Zeb knew this anguish had festered within Sasha for far too long, unspoken and unheard.

"I never knew h-hate until that day, until he said those words. I hit him. And I hit him. I c-couldn't stop h-hitting him. I r-remember him touching my forehead and then nothing, until I woke up in the temple. The Jedi Council was there. And...and Chancellor Palpatine."

Zeb felt his heart stop upon hearing that name. He knew that name. There wasn't a soul who didn't. No one could forget it after over a decade of tyranny, of hatred and violence and so much death. Zeb didn't want to imagine what reason Palpatine could have for being there that day, but knew he wouldn't have to think about it for long; Sasha wasn't finished.

"Mila was all I had l-left. When she died that d-day, I became a ward of the s-state and the Chancellor made it h-his mission to find a home for m-me. S-said he c-couldn't sit back and do n-nothing when the Republic and the Jedi were the reason I'd lost all I h-had. I clung to him. Clung t-to the suggestion that he felt as I d-did over what Windu had done."

Sasha drew in a shuddering breath that rattled in his chest.

Zeb nuzzled his hair, heedless of the frost clinging to them both.

"Wullf Yularen was more than a m-mentor at the ISB," Sasha continued raggedly, his voice wet with tears that were no doubt mirrored on his face. He turned his head weakly, as though to hide his face in his shoulder, but couldn't quite manage. "H-he was the one that t-took me in when the Chancellor asked him to. I was soon pulled from school. Was g-given private tutoring. I knew how to wield a b-blaster before I was s-sixteen. H-how to fight. How to drive a speeder. H-how to pilot a sh-ship. And Chancellor P-Palpatine visited me often. And each visit was a p-painful reminder of w-what I'd lost. It s-stoked the anger and h-hate burning in me. Hatred of Master Windu and the Jedi."

"You were bein' groomed."

"I didn't know it then. I didn't s-see it until after we'd crashed on that moon. Until after I started thinking and c-couldn't stop. Couldn't stop thinking about the h-hours I'd spent training t-to be a w-walking weapon. Couldn't s-stop remembering the kind words, the g-gentle touches, and the s-subtle remarks that f-fed what I was f-feeling, and drew me closer to him all the t-time. Couldn't stop thinking about h-how quick I'd been to come to him when w-word that Windu tried to murder him and the Jedi had turned against the Republic broke. H-he told me the new Empire would n-need people like m-me to help bring p-peace and order to a w-world left in chaos. That he was c-counting on me."

A bitter, broken laugh escaped Sasha then.

The sound of it broke something inside Zeb, and it took all his willpower not to snarl as a blinding rage flooded through him. Rage against Palpatine and the Empire. Rage against the man who'd turned Sasha into a weapon. _His_ Sasha. _His_ mate. His gift from the Ashla. Weaponised and then discarded like scrap metal when his blind devotion fractured straight down the middle.

Zeb wanted to tear the world apart.

"The first f-few generations of cadets to graduate from the Imperial Academy," Sasha continued tiredly, tears still falling and his frame drained of energy, "were p-people like me. People whose l-lives he'd touched when we were still children. People he'd t-twisted and r-ruined. I w-wish I'd s-seen it s-sooner. I was such a f-fool."

"Ya were just a kid. No older than Ezra was when he joined the _Ghost_." Zeb tightened his arms around his mate protectively, needing to feel him as close as possible. "Ya trusted him and he took advantage. Palpatine knew what he was doin'. Ya didn't have a clue. How could ya?"

"But I should have."

"Ya can spend a lifetime agonisin' over what happened...but it won't change the past and it won't help change the future." Zeb nuzzled his hair instinctively, ignoring the scent of ice and focusing on the familiar scent of earth and iron. "You're doin' what ya can. That's all anyone can ask for. Anyone starts demandin' more and I'll break their face."

"G'r'zeb," Sasha slurred raggedly, amused and scandalised and exhausted all at once.

"What?"

"I dun deserve you."

"Yeah. Well. Ya have me anyway," Zeb answered quietly, firm and affectionate. He couldn't stop himself from brushing a kiss against the top of his head. His heart jumped into his throat as soon as he realised what he'd done. But his fears were assuaged less than a moment later as a soft sigh of pleasure and contentment escaped Sasha. His lashes fluttered closed when Zeb heard it and something akin to euphoria rushed through him.

Silence fell.

Zeb didn't want to break it. Not now. Not when it seemed like his mate had accepted him at last. He couldn't fathom speaking. He couldn't fathom shattering the peace that existed between them now. For so long, Zeb and Sasha had been at odds and now the walls separating them were a crumbled ruin.

Zeb cherished it.

He cherished the new peace and tranquility, cherished the hand that sought his despite the order he'd given earlier. He cherished the soft tangle of their fingers. He cherished the slight shift of Sasha's head beneath his chin -- as though the man were attempting to nuzzle him as well as he could. 

Zeb tightened his arms around him again.

When the silence broke eventually, it was Sasha that spoke.

"G'r'zeb."

"Yeah?"

"Need to tell y'summin."

"Whatever it is, it can wait." Zeb nuzzled against his head in return. "It won't be long until Sabine finds us."

"G'r'zeb," Sasha whispered.

Zeb stilled when he heard his name slurred a second time, the sound weaker than the first. It brought attention to the now dark purple of Sasha's ears and the slow, almost too slow, rise and fall of his chest. His arms tightened automatically; his claws extended against his will. Whatever Sasha wanted to say, Zeb knew he wasn't going to like it.

"M'not gun make it."

"Shut up."

"G'zeb," Sasha slurred again weakly, almost half of his name missing. His hand squeezed a fraction. It was almost unnoticeable. Zeb wouldn't have noticed it at all were his senses not so attuned to the man cradled against his chest. "Y'were the bes' thing that e'er happened t'me. Jus' want y'to know. Before --"

" _Shut up_ ," Zeb snarled. "Ya ain't allowed to talk like that. Ya hear me?!"

Sasha didn't answer.

* * *

Zeb stared down at the bed silently, a familiar emptiness carving deeper into his chest with each passing second. He welcomed the sharp sting of his claws digging into his palms again. He was sure he'd scar from the repeated process. But he couldn't find it in himself to care. Pain...and the sensation of blood dripping from his hands...was better than this emptiness growing inside him.

An emptiness he'd hoped he'd never experience again. 

Zeb crushed his lashes against his cheeks and inhaled raggedly, taking in the scent of his own blood amid the nauseating scent of sterilisation. Two weeks and he still hadn't grown accustomed to the unnatural scent of the medbay, where he'd spent more hours than he cared to count.

Didn't _want_ to count.

Because the hours didn't matter.

All that mattered was the man tucked under soft sheets and blankets, whose chest rose and fell slowly, whose beard was starting to seem a little untamed. Whose cheeks bore tiny, threadlike silver scars reminiscent of old, forgotten spider webs where not even bacta could work its miracles. Whose hair seemed to have lost its shine.

Two weeks and Sasha still hadn't woken up.

Two weeks and Zeb didn't know what to do with himself except watch and wait. He'd tried to distract himself with a short mission and it had blown up in his face, leaving him and the crew shaken to their core, and leaving Senator Mothma adamant that he remain grounded for the foreseeable future.

Zeb hadn't argued.

Hera hadn't argued.

Ezra hadn't even argued and that said something.

Zeb sank down to the floor beside the bed and hunched over, capturing one small hand between both of his and whispering fervent pleas in his native tongue, falling back on old habits he'd tried so hard to forget in the wake of his failure to protect Lasan -- habits that Kanan and Chava had guided him back to with painstaking patience.

It wasn't the first time he'd whispered such pleas in the last two weeks.

It wouldn't be the last.

The Ashla had answered his pleas in the escape pod and Zeb wouldn't soon forget it.

"Zeb?"

Zeb almost jumped out of his skin at the sound of his name. His natural instincts drove him to his feet in an instant. A snarl rumbled up from the depths of his chest as he put himself between Sasha and the man approaching, heedless of the jolt of recognition that shot through him.

It didn't matter who it was.

His mate was vulnerable.

"Hey, Big Guy," Wedge Antilles said quietly, raising his hands in supplication. He glanced at the bed behind Zeb. Something akin to sadness flickered across his features. "He still hasn't woken up?"

"No." Zeb stared at Wedge for a long moment. His instincts whispered _threat_ . His mind whispered _friend._ The two opposing views waged a gruelling war, punctuated with his own harsh breathing and the almost violent shake of his hands. Drops of his blood scattered across the floor. Wedge glanced at his bloodied claws nervously, the muscles in his throat bobbing as he swallowed. Regret pulsed through Zeb in an instant. His claws retracting, Zeb turned away, muttering, "Sorry. S'just...Lasat stuff."

"I understand."

"No. Ya don't."

"We all understand fear," Wedge answered quietly, watching him.

"I ain't afraid," Zeb snapped. 

_Liar_ , his mind whispered. 

"Okay," Wedge said easily, his tone soft and soothing, almost as though he spoke to a small child.

Zeb wanted to punch him in the face. Or throw him out an airlock. He focused on Sasha instead. On the threads of silver scars decorating the backs of his hands. Just like the ones on his face. It wasn't fair that the result of something so horrible could seem so soft and so pretty, could pull at his heart with such devastating force.

It wasn't right.

"Hera sent me. You're late for lunch."

"I ain't hungry," Zeb said quietly, his stomach churning at the thought of leaving Sasha just to stuff his face in the mess hall. "I'll have somethin' later."

"You know that isn't true. Hera knows it too." Wedge stepped forward and touched his arm lightly, almost plaintive. Zeb looked at him before he realised he'd moved. Wedge stared up at him. "Two weeks and not a spark of hunger, Zeb. You've lost weight. Your fur doesn't even shine. Hera is worried. She gave that order to eat with her for a reason."

"I know," Zeb bit out. His hands curled into fists. He shook his head quickly, the force almost disorienting him for a moment. "I know she is. But I can't…I can't just leave him."

"He wouldn't begrudge a meal. You know that."

"But what if he wakes up and I'm not there…?"

"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it." Wedge squeezed his arm. "Come on."

Zeb deflated with a long, weary sigh. He allowed himself one last longing look at his mate before letting Wedge lead him away, knowing Wedge and Hera had his best interests at heart. The _Ghost_ crew, and its various extended family, always had his best interests at heart.

The mess hall was bustling when Zeb and Wedge arrived. It discomfited him. It was too loud and too busy; his ears flicked in a dozen different directions as snippets of conversation carried over the general din. A quiet growl rumbled in his chest. His frazzled nerves wanted to retreat immediately, to go back to the medbay, to return to his mate.

But Zeb didn't back down.

There was no point.

Zeb lumbered over to the cold counter and forced himself to pick up a plate. He ignored Wedge hovering behind him. He chose a small selection of fruit, a small bread roll, and a few slices of dried meat and cheese. It wasn't a lot. But it was enough to ease Hera's worries when Zeb joined her, with Wedge hot on his heels. 

"Hey," Hera said quietly, her soft green gaze fixed on him. A small smile teased the corner of her mouth as she slid a small packet of wet wipes across the table. Hera was more than accustomed to his habit of tearing up his hands when he was stressed. It wasn't the first time she'd had to step in since Zeb joined the crew, but the last time had been so long ago. "Thanks for coming, Zeb. I was starting to get a bit worried."

"Sorry," Zeb grumbled almost to himself. He bowed his head and focused on sanitising his hands instead of looking at her, knowing he couldn't handle the concern and affection in her gaze for more than just that brief moment. "Lost track of time."

Wedge didn't hesitate to strike up a conversation with Hera as he dived back into his own lunch -- obviously, he'd abandoned it to come and retrieve Zeb. But the pilot didn't mention their disagreement in the medbay, and Zeb shot him a grateful glance. Wedge answered him with a small smile of understanding before stuffing his mouth with a spoonful of stew.

Zeb ate slowly, each mouthful like ash on his tongue. But his thoughts remained in the medbay, with Sasha. He couldn't help wondering if Sasha knew he'd been at his bedside, if he knew he'd whispered such fervent pleas to the Ashla. If he knew Zeb couldn't fathom a world where Sasha wasn't breathing, wasn't there to frustrate him endlessly, or speak his full name in that rich voice that made his ears wiggle like no one else could.

Zeb inhaled raggedly, his vision blurring rapidly, and almost choked on a piece of dried meat until someone thumped his back and he managed to swallow it down. He looked up to see Sabine staring down at him worriedly, her colourful helmet tucked under one arm and her hand coming to rest on his shoulder.

Just the sight of her sent his thoughts careening back into the escape pod.

To the moment Sasha stopped responding. 

Zeb could remember the listless weight of his body, how his arms hung loose as he'd hauled Sasha around in his embrace as terror pounded in his blood for the first time in so long. How his head lolled until Zeb cupped it with one shaking hand. How frozen tears glistened across the blackened flesh marring his face. Zeb could remember the noise that escaped him as his vision blurred for the first time since Lasan fell and how he'd hauled Sasha still closer, pressing their brows together. 

Zeb could remember something cracking. He'd thought it was his heart until the escape pod shuddered around them. And then another crack came and another until the hatch door was wrenched open to reveal the familiar faces of Sabine and Rex.

"Help," he'd croaked immediately, still cradling Sasha. "He needs help."

Zeb hadn't registered the tears soaking into his fur until Rex took Sasha away, hauling him over his shoulder with practiced ease and scrambling back into the stolen ship used for the mission. Until Sabine threw a blanket around his shoulders and forced him to sit down with an ease that would have ashamed him under other circumstances. He'd been too terrified to even consider being ashamed then. Zeb hadn't been able to tear his gaze from Sasha as Rex set him down on the nearest flat surface and rushed to retrieve the medical supplies.

Sabine had wrapped herself around Zeb and she hadn't let go.

Not until the moment the ship landed on Yavin 4.

Zeb reached up now and covered her hand with his, squeezing just a little. Just enough to get his point across. Her gaze still laden with worry, Sabine turned her hand over and squeezed his in return. Zeb was about to suggest she pull up a seat when the intercom flared and a strained voice said sharply, "Security to medbay!"

His heart pounding, Zeb surged to his feet instantly, knocking the table over in the process and soaking Wedge in stew. A slice of cheese hit Hera in the face. A fork struck Sabine's armour and went skittering across the floor, where a distracted pilot slipped and upended the contents of his lunch all over himself. But Zeb didn't care as he leaped over the mess and through the gap between Wedge and Hera before bolting from the mess hall. 

People scattered around him as Zeb ran through the base.

He almost bowled General Draven over.

Zeb managed to grouse a quick apology, but didn't look back to see if he was hurt. Or pissed off. He'd deal with the consequences later. Nothing mattered now except reaching the medbay, and reaching Sasha.

"WHERE IS HE?!"

Zeb almost tripped over himself when he heard the familiar voice in the distance. He sped up, desperation clawing at the base of his throat. When Zeb burst into the medbay, it was to see Sasha out of bed and struggling against two medics and three guards from base security, his stardust gaze wild with fear and his hand wrapped tight around a syringe. 

"RELEASE HIM. NOW," Zeb bellowed the words before he could think better of it.

The guards and medics didn't think twice about scattering; no one wanted to stand between a furious Lasat and someone he cared about. Not when it wouldn't take much effort to throw them all across the room. Not when he could splinter their bones with just his bare hands.

Sasha staggered back a step as soon as he was released. The syringe toppled from his now slack grasp. His wild gaze fastened on Zeb instantly, fear replaced with a relief so profound that Zeb felt his breath catch in his chest. Sasha croaked his name as tears welled and took two stumbling steps toward him before his bad leg buckled beneath his weight

Zeb lunged forward.

A broken sob escaped Sasha as the pair of them collided roughly, scarred hands fisting his fur, and Zeb didn't hesitate to sweep his mate into his arms. He cradled him close and inhaled the familiar scent of earth and iron desperately, crushing their faces together as Sasha choked on his tears.

"Garazeb," Sasha whispered raggedly, his voice watery, turning his head to hide his face in his neck. His nails dig beneath his fur and into his skin and Zeb didn't care that it stung because Sasha was awake and clinging to him with the same fervour that Zeb felt inside himself. "Garazeb. My Garazeb. I thought you'd left me. I thought --"

"I'm never leavin'," Zeb assured immediately, his own voice soft and strong despite the emotions crashing through him. Sasha needed him more than ever now. It wasn't the time to get lost in his own head. Zeb carded his hand through soft hair, his heart clenching when Sasha leaned into the touch instantly, as though his touch were all that he'd ever wanted. "It'll take a lot more than some ice to take me down. Ya should know that after all this time."

Sasha choked out a laugh despite his tears and said nothing, choosing to cling to him even harder.

Zeb headed for the door.

"Kallus hasn't been cleared -- !"

Zeb snarled at the medic that tried to stop them from leaving and swallowed the surge of satisfaction when she raised her hands in supplication and stepped away, allowing them to continue unhindered. Zeb continued on his way, his heart full and his steps spry, listening to Sasha whisper his name into his fur again and again like it was a fervent plea.

It wasn't long until Zeb crossed the threshold of their quarters and sealed the door with a quick elbow, cocooning himself and his mate in a small world of their own. It wasn't much. But it was theirs and that was all that mattered to Zeb, who carried Sasha straight to the nearest bunk and bundled them both inside.

"This bunk isn't mine," Sasha whispered before releasing a small huff of amusement and swiping at the tears staining his face with a shaking hand.

"It could be." Zeb couldn't stop himself from capturing his hand and drawing it to his face. He inhaled the scent of earth and iron and salt before kissing those stolen tears away, a small hopeful smile curling his lips. "If ya wanted."

"I do." Sasha slipped his hand free and touched his face with shaking fingers, his touch almost hesitant despite the soft reverence in his gaze. His touch moved across his jaw and cheek before settling near his ear, fingertips grazing the short fur and sensitive skin there. Zeb couldn't stop a small purr from escaping. Sasha smiled softly, the expression almost awed. "You don't know how long I've wanted this. You."

"I think I have some idea."

"Garazeb," Sasha murmured softly, a slow blink sending a single tear sliding free of his wet lashes. Zeb watched the tear follow the curve of his scarred cheek for a moment before focusing on Sasha again -- on his stardust gaze and the fingers caressing his ear still. Somehow, his mate seemed closer than before and Zeb wasn't sure how it happened. He couldn't remember either of them moving closer. But it didn't matter as Sasha's voice softened further. "I lied when I said it wasn't purple."

Zeb didn't know a heart could split with joy.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic wasn't beta-read. All mistakes are mine. 
> 
> Feel free to drop in on [tumblr](https://rachaelkelleher.tumblr.com/) or [instagram](https://www.instagram.com/pocket_scribbles/)


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